Whispers in the Wind
by poppyloupeanut
Summary: Severus Snape has survived the downfall of Lord Voldemort, and, even better, he never has to see the troublesome, tiring trio now that they have finished their education and abandoned his classroom. However, when Albus sends him on a rescue mission for the sibling of a colleague, Severus has more on his plate than he ever had before. Rated M for later chapters and language.
1. Another Year, Another Task

Severus Snape stood over his cauldron, wondering why on earth he was being forced to watch over these incompetent ingrates for yet another year. Casting a glance over his seventh year class, he contemplated why half of the idiotic, ineffective imbeciles bothered coming back to potions at all. He also took note of the fact that he seemed to be favouring 'I' words today. The one thing he took genuine joy in, was the fact that for the first time in eight, long years, he was no longer trapped under the thumb of the dark lord, the force that was Voldemort had been wiped from the face of the earth forever, and best of all, finally, his precious potions class was free of the golden trio of goits. Nevermore would he be bothered by that insufferable know-it-all, the carrot topped buffoon and the emerald eyed thorn in his side. The thought made him grin, before being ripped from his reverie by a terrified shriek.

Snapping his head towards the abysmal noise, Severus took great pleasure in the sight he was greeted with. Elsa Hubble, a loudmouthed Ravenclaw chit was covered head to toe in her final experimental project. Which just so happened to be a Hair-Be-Gone depilation potion. Guffaws erupted from every student in the room as with a growing look of horror, Elsa's auburn tresses began quickly detaching themselves from her scalp and dropping to the ground. Tears began to well up in the girl's eyes as she whipped her head around to look for the perpetrator. Unfortunately, this only resulted in strands of copper flying in every direction. Finally, just as Severus was about to step in, Elsa's gaze fell on the one person in the room who wasn't bent double in laughter, but who instead was standing stock still with an ever increasing look of fear written across her face. Lizzie Cartwright, a muggleborn from Hufflepuff, stood staring at the pool of glossy hair collecting around Elsa's ankles, holding a bowl of finely chopped Valerian root in her shaking hands. Although a whizz in charms, Severus has known from her first year that Cartwright was the feminine equivalent of Neville Longbottom, regarding both clumsiness and complete and utter incompetence when it came to the "subtle art of potion making". In fact, the girl was about as subtle as a gun. It seemed as though miss Cartwright had unfortunately tripped over the train of Elsa's robes, causing her to fling several potions worth of valerian powder into Elsa's waiting cauldron (which, in Severus' opinion was Elsa's own fault. It served her right for daring to wear such a gaudy, out of place outfit in his classroom). Slowly, Elsa's face turned a shade similar to that of an over-stewed beetroot, before she let the string of abuse she apparently didn't have the sense to hold back, spring forth. "You IDIOT! You, stupid, inconsiderate, filthy little mudblood whore!" Suddenly, the classroom was eerily silent, and Severus' blood pressure was starting to rise, rapidly. "Do you think that just because you're not content with fucking up your own work, you can mess with mine? I will NOT be made fun of by a filthy, muggle born lowlife like you!" "SILENCE!" Elsa's tirade stopped immediately, as Severus swooped down on her in a wave of black material. "Miss Hubble, if I ever hear you speak another word in this classroom, you will be sent straight to Filch's quarters to help scrape mould from the walls of the dungeons and clip Mrs norris' ear hairs. Every evening. For the rest of the year." Severus stared down his nose at the young, bald witch, silently daring her to speak again. "But…" "Filch's office. NOW" He turned the entire force of his onyx stare onto the young woman, who was now trembling from head to toe. She ran off with a little squeak, bounding out of the door just as Severus called out, in the most chilling voice he could muster, "500 points from Ravenclaw." The class was still silent. No-one dared complain. Severus returned to his podium, smirking inwardly at the girl's reaction. "First score of the day. I'm losing my touch". Turning towards the rest of the students, glowering at the Cartwright girl, he spoke. "If anyone ever uses that filthy word in my presence ever again, I will personally see to it that they are unable to utter a single syllable for the rest of their miserable lives. Is that understood." It wasn't a question. After several moments of silence that Severus took to mean "Yes", he dismissed the class, taking another 20 points from Ravenclaw for dillydallying.

Slumping back in his reading chair by the fire, a glass of firewhisky in hand, Severus looked back on the events of the past year. Voldemort defeated, Harry praised, hundreds of friends and students mourned, and Severus himself escaping death by the skin of his teeth. Or, perhaps more aptly, the grip of Nagini's jaws on the skin of his neck. The glass in his hand trembled as he thought of what could have happened, if the beast's venomous fangs had hit just one more inch to the right, piercing his jugular. He still had nightmares about it. He had seen many things in his life. Women slaughtering their own babies whilst under the imperio, as sport for those hideous revels, the bravest men begging for demise after minutes under the cruciatus curse, dying with a smile on their faces when hit by the deadly green aura, a woman, stretching out a cold, dead hand reaching for her still breathing child, her perfect red hair pooling about her cheeks…

A loud rattling noise emitted from the fireplace, pulling Severus from his thoughts. He gripped his firewhisky even tighter, his mouth settling into a grim scowl as the bright, twinkling face of Albus Dumbledore became visible amidst the green flames. "Ah, Severus. I have been looking for you everywhere, dear boy."

"I am sure. It makes sense, in that case that you should find me here. By my fireplace. In MY quarters. About to go to sleep in MY bed." _Get the fuck out of my room old man. You may no longer have a body, but I swear by Merlin's beard I will give you some bruises before the night is through…_

"Come come now Severus, we both know you were not about to hop off to sleep. Not dressed in that, at least." He motioned to Severus' black robes, still buttoned up to the collar, with no sign of being removed any time soon. Albus smiled. It was one of those twinkling, mischevious grin the old man had never lost, even though he had in fact, lost his face. Technically. " If I wasn't contacting you on a matter of business, I might even have joined you for a glass or two of those."

"Albus. You cant drink"

The light went out of the Headmaster's eyes for a moment. "Ah, yes. Never again will I savour the taste of a good bottle of Glenfiddich. Or Bertie Bott's. Though," His eyes lighted once more, and that mischievous smile returned. "I don't think I shall be missing those in particular."

"You said something about a business matter?" Despite his soft spot for the old man's occasional tandems, Severus was not in the mood for a light-hearted conversation about chocolate frogs and the joys of a good pinot noir. Albus's grin widened.

"Always to the point, dear boy. Meet me in my office, promptly. The password is 'tangfastics'."

"Tangfastics?"

"Yes. Despite some of their finer downfalls, muggles are incredibly talented when it comes to confectionary." With that, Albus' face withdrew from the flames, which returned to a warm, and slightly ominous looking orange. Sighing, Severus threw his remaining alcohol into the grate, a wall of flame filling the fireplace for a moment, before disappearing entirely. Wrapping his ever thinning cloak around him, he exited his quarters, and made his way up to the North wing, wondering all the what on earth Tangfastics were, and if they were worth investigating.


	2. Gods help us all

As Severus entered the headmaster's office, he carefully took note of his surroundings. Since Albus's demise, no-one had entered the room. Even after his return, no-one wanted to set foot in the place, let alone clean it. They considered it to be disrespectful. Severus considered this to be bullshit. It seemed that he and McGonagall alone visited the old man now. Even before his fall, many had considered Albus to be getting too old for his position, and when he had returned to it as a (albeit good natured and wise) spectre, many parents had taken their children out of Hogwarts, transferring them to either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, damn the cost. Hogwarts had seen better days.

Peering down at the mahogany sideboards that lined the walls, holding multiple bowls of slightly dusty sweets, Severus smiled. Judging by the lines of feather trails left on the dusty coating of the wood, Fawkes was determined to keep the place looking respectable, even if the only thing he had to dust with was his backside. Almost as if on cue, a loud squawk emanated from a shady corner of the room. Much like the castle that housed him, Fawkes looked shabbier than usual. His plumage was dulled, his talons chipped, and the glimmer in his eye that he shared with his owner was much dulled. Severus recognised this. He was coming to the end of yet another life. Severus gave the creature a kindly pat on the head as he walked past, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that not even Minerva could get away with that without a rather large claw mark as a warning. Even if others still believed him to be a traitor, it warmed Severus' heart to know that Fawkes was aware of his sacrifices, and respected them. Even after his story had been leaked into the tabloids, _May Rita Skeeter rot in an Azkaban cell, _very few people actually believed that Severus was loyal to the light. He had even received death threats, which to be quite honest, he wasn't at all phased by. What had chilled him to the core, was the blame being piled on him for one thing in particular. Once his connection to the Potter family had been outed, he had been branded the "Potter Killer". Even though Severus had not set foot in the Potter residence until after the heinous at had been committed, it did not stop the blame for their demise being placed entirely on his shoulders. Though the hatred for James Potter was still embedded in his heart, despite shrinking gradually over the years, being blamed for the death of his Lily had wrenched Severus' heart in two. He made a point of never showing deep emotion, especially sorrow, even when in the privacy of his own home, but on the day he was stopped in Diagon Alley by a weathered old crone, shrieking that he had killed Lily, that he may as well have cast the Avada Kedavra himself and slaughtered her to satisfy his "bloodlust", he apparated straight to Spinners end, leaving all his purchases behind in the street, collapsed to the floor, and wept.

_Stop it. Thinking like this is dangerous. You can't go back into this part of your head, idiotic old fool. _Forcing himself out of his inner monologue, Severus turned his attention to the spectre floating behind the desk in the centre of the room. Even as a ghost, Albus refused to be rid of his swirling robes, his incredibly large hat and the glimmering beads peeking out through the folds of his beard, which incidentally looked to be a brighter white than ever, surrounded by its ghostly, ethereal aura.

"Ahem"

"Ah, Severus, you took your time my boy, did I not say this was an urgent matter?" _That blasted twinkle. If death hasn't rid the old bat of it, nothing will._

"Of course, however, I was sidetracked by a couple of your blasted Gryffindors. They seemed to be quite interested in each others tonsils, and, as a head of house I felt it necessary to halt their interactions and deduct points before either of them injured themselves in their, ahem, sport."

"Oh come now Severus, don't you remember when you were a young man?"

"Yes. Thankfully it was a long time ago, and I will never again have to deal with the hell that was teenage life. Apart from when I have to handle inappropriate performances of the baser aspects of it from your delightful students." Severus tried to fill this statement with as much malice as possible. His head had not been in its rightful place this evening, but he was not going to let Albus catch onto that.

"You mean you can't handle a few lovers playing tonsil basketball?" Despite his misquotation of the popular phrase, Albus' twinkle seemed to brighten. Severus cringed.

"Are you going to get around to telling me your urgent business?"

"Ah. Yes." The headmaster's face turned grave, and the ethereal glow that surrounded his spectre dimmed slightly. "I do not pretend to know what goes on in that head of yours Severus, but I believe I know you well enough to be certain of a few things. I take it you are still in touch with the, ahem, sources you became acquainted with during the years you spent serving Riddle?"

Severus' face coloured slightly. He hadn't meant for the old man to know about those particular correspondences. True, despite the fact that they were all still having a lengthy holiday in Azkaban, most of those convicted of conspiring with the dark lord had, in fact, been under the imperius curse, most of which had been cast by Voldemort himself. However, it was deemed by the Wizengamot "highly unlikely" that such a number of followers, over 2000 in all, could have been affected by the magic of one lone wizard. As such, all those pleading innocent under the influence of Unforgivables had been locked away with the rest of their black hearted, twisted associates. Severus still kept in contact with some of the honest ones, who still heard rumours flitting about from their cellmates and the like. The fact that Albus seemed to know these intimate details worried him. _ If he knows, who the hell else does?! If that rat Skeeter finds out about this I'm doomed._

As though he could read Severus' mind, Albus' face creased into a knowing grin. "Do not worry my boy, I highly doubt that anyone else is aware of these little conversations. In fact, the last time I saw Miss Skeeter pottering about your classroom in her charming animagus, I had Peeves make good use of his talents. If I remember correctly, he accidentally trapped her in a potions vial, which was then given to a miss Elizabeth Cartwright to use for her mid term potions test. Apparently she lost one of her wings in the process." Albus' smirked, and the twinkle in his eye returned. "I was informed of the little mishap in your class earlier. Perhaps Miss Cartwright would be more suited to Herbology, eh? Oh blast it all." This final comment was uttered upon the Headmaster looking down, and taking note of the fact that he had just walked through the centre of his desk and had a jar of sherbet lemons suspended in his midriff. "I really need to start paying attention to where I walk. Passing through walls is one thing, but this…"

"Ahem. As per your inquiry, yes, I do still communicate with some of my less fortunate acquaintances."

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that my boy. In that case, I take it you have heard about the discovery that has many a dark witch and wizard on their toes."

Severus frowned, the furrow in his brow deepening at the motion. " I have heard no such thing."

"Then it seems your sources are not as reliable as they used to be." With a sigh, Albus' removed the floating confectionary from his beard and made to sit down. "My boy, have you heard of the ceremony known as the Sacrificium alligantes?"

Severus took a moment, racking his brain for any trace of recognition. "The sacrifice of the bonded?"

"The sacrifice of the bound. It is an ancient ritual. To my knowledge, it has never been performed. And for good reason."

Severus, not usually one for beating around the bush, found himself hanging on the old man's every word. He could tell that whatever this ritual entailed, it was troubling Albus immensely.

" 'The Bound' is a term given to rarities in our world Severus. Divination and psychic links are considered commonplace by many witches and wizards, although, as you may have noticed, very few are capable of truly interacting with the future, and other dimensions. Sybil is one of these few." Severus snorted, earning himself a stern look from his mentor. "Do not scoff Severus. Despite her reputation, Sybil does have the gift. Her prophecies have saved many lives. Do not underestimate her."

_Crazy old goat. I do not underestimate her. I simply refuse to believe that anything good that comes of her insane drivelling is at all under her control._

"Now, I do not mean to say that Sybil's prophecies are at all under her control" _Thought not. _"That is a very rare ability, which comes to only a few in a generation. These few, who are able to consciously control the power needed to interact with the other psychic dimensions are capable of things we can only dream of, Severus. Telekinetic abilities, seeing not only glimpses of future and past occurrences, but whole months, possibly years of it. And above all, Astral projection. I trust you have heard of this?"

" Yes. The subject is able to separate their physical body and their subconscious presence, allowing the latter to roam freely about the astral plain, leaving their physical form behind." Severus' voice grew thick, worry starting to build up in his gut. " In lamens terms, they are able to separate their body from their soul. And they can see things in a way no other person can."

"Yes"

Severus' mind began to work over time. If someone with these talents had turned to the dark, gods above knows what they would be capable of. Sensing his worry, Albus broke him out of his state. "Severus, I am not finished. Although these individuals are indeed a rarity, it is unlikely that you will find more than twenty in England at any one time, there are rare cases, extremely rare, in which these people are able to go one step further."

Severus' jaw slackened. _Further than tearing your soul from your body and allowing it to walk around without you?! _

" There have been cases, where during Astral projection, peoples souls have gone to another place entirely. I do not mean by this that they have gone on a mini-break to Paris for a few days, or travelled overseas before returning to the host's body. They have gone to a place not of this world. There is, Severus, a place consisting of nothingness, save for souls of Wizards and Witches. It is a dark place. By all accounts, or the very few accounts we have of it, existing in this place is akin to a never-ending Dementor's kiss. A minute there is akin to a lifetime. And once every ten generations or so, there will be one person capable of entering this place through the astral plain. Through psychics like Sybil, miniscule portions of this other plain seep through, causing subconscious links to the future, resulting in her prophecies. Through those who can enter the plain itself, while that person lives, a bond is created between that realm and our own. These individuals are known as 'Bound', and through this link, the living are able to manipulate the dead."

Albus gave the potions master a few moments to digest the information given to him. When Severus finally spoke up, his voice came out hoarse and dry. "And one of these 'Bound' has been discovered? Here?"

"Yes."

"And what does this have to do with this ritual?"

Albus sighed wearily, as if the weight of the words he was holding was too much for him. " The Sacrificium alligantes consists of a link being made through a very powerful psychic to the other side, allowing a second party to call upon a soul of the departed. This second party must in turn be a very powerful wizard, not necessarily of psychic ability, but strong in the conviction of his actions. Once a soul has been found, the psychic's blood must anoint the passage of the soul from the other realm into this one. In other words, the psychic is sacrificed in order to make a doorway for the soul to pass through. Once on this plain, the soul's body is returned to it, as it was at the hour of it's demise. It also steals the power from the sacrifice given to it."

Severus' face had turned ashen and pale as Albus explained the steps of the ceremony. "And the powerful psychic, it must be one of the Bound?" Albus nodded. "So, what you are trying to say, is that someone out there has begun a search for this Bound, and intends to bring a powerful Wizard back from the grave." Albus nodded again.

"And I assume you know which wizard is to be resurrected, my boy?"

A silence filled the room for a second. "Voldemort." More silence. "Where are they?" The words came out of Severus' mouth as no more than a whisper. "WHERE ARE THEY? THIS PSYCHIC? WHERE?" Severus' face reflected his inner turmoil as though a mirror had been placed before his heart. His eyes shone black, and his lips stretched tight against his teeth in a primal grimace indicative of a man whose salvation had been placed before him, only to be ripped away from him leaving a gaping, bloody hole behind.

"Be calm my boy. We know where she is. She is safe, for now. I asked you here because I need you to go to her. I need you to protect her."

"Her? You know who she is?" Severus' face calmed for a moment, his heart slowly returning to a steady beat.

"Yes." Once again, the headmaster failed to provide any more detail that that which was asked of him. This particular trait infuriated Severus, especially in times like this, when Severus was already treading the thin line between feigned calm, and ripping someone's spine out.

"Well, Who The Bloody Hell Is She?!"

Albus smiled slightly, though it did not reach his eyes. "Merida Trelawney, my boy. Sybil's sister."


End file.
